Love
by Tsukiria
Summary: Because it will, without a doubt, be the only term Bookman Junior Lavi cannot and will never fully comprehend. LaviXKanda mild AllenXLenalee


**"Love"**

Summary: Because it will, without a doubt, be the only term Bookman Junior Lavi cannot and will never fully comprehend.

LaviXKanda mild AllenXLenalee

* * *

_v._ **Loved**, **lov·ing**, **loves**

_v.tr._

**1. **To have a deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude toward (a person)

**2. **To have a feeling of intense desire and attraction toward (a person).

**3. **To have an intense emotional attachment to

**4. **To like or desire enthusiastically

**5. **_Theology_To have charity for.

**6. **To thrive on; need:

_v.intr._

To experience deep affection or intense desire for another.

--

_The heart has its reasons which reason knows not of._

--

Lavi is a bookman apprentice.

As a bookman, he knows everything – major things like the happenings of the Battle of Waterloo; the causes of World War 1; the effects of the Civil War… all right down to the littlest of all things like how Lenalee had a habit of twirling her long hair when she was younger (she still does, catching the short strands of dark green out of habit when she gets bored); how Allen likes his Mitarashi dango with extra sweet soy sauce; how Kanda seemed to always stick by the same-old, never-changing schedule…

He knows everything.

Concepts and information he all absorbed even quicker than a sponge would with water, and details he seemed to know like the back, and even front, of his palm as it stained his fingers with inky blackness. His mind is quick, nimble, and practically filled to the brim with metaphoric water of knowledge, and everything under the sun he is aware of.

And yet why (he really couldn't help but muse on the rare occasions where he let "Lavi" slip out of "his" cheerful personality) as he gazed at the way Allen would blush faintly with Lenalee; the way Krory would sigh wistfully at the mention of his akuma lover; was it that he feels as though he was missing something? Something he _simply_ cannot find as he flipped through the pages of the accumulation of his life's knowledge?

_Ah well_, he would shrug offhandedly; indifferently; un-"Lavi"-ishly, thinking that no one was looking.

_Not that it __**matters**_.

Kanda will not and never say anything.

--

_Love is all the emotions in the world molded into one._

--

He will not and never be like them, no matter how "Lavi" did (seem to be).

He is not like Allen – who loves the akuma; who loves the humans; and who maybe, maybe, loves Lenalee. He is not like Lenalee – who loves her brother; who loves her friends; and who maybe, maybe, loves Allen back. He is not like Krory – who loves Eliade, nor is he like Miranda – who loves all who loves her worth.

Kanda loved no one.

And he, like the samurai, does not love.

This perhaps, perhaps (but maybe it is not so), may be why Lavi likes Yuu just a tiny bit.

Likes, Lavi decides, not love.

For to Lavi, 'like' was but the faint outline of 'love', not as serious, more lighthearted; To a Bookman, 'like' was but a troublesome term to be used a bit too often for one's liking, while 'love' was nothing short of taboo.

After all, to like is what the mind decides. To love is not.

Bookman have no need of a heart.

Lavi is a Bookman apprentice. Bookman Junior is Lavi.

Bookman do not love, so neither will Lavi.

--

_Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired. _

--

Lavi likes romance novels because it seems to be something he is supposed to like. It also helps him stay in character.

It is not and never will be because some part of him yearns to love, desires for someone to love him – no.

Never.

As Lavi babbles on and on to Allen about the sappy, corny, disgusting; wonderful, original, enticing romance stories, Bookman Junior is amused at the way Allen would titter nervously, amused at the way the Destroyer of Time would flush. He cannot help but smile bitterly as he, for a moment, forgets what Lavi is saying and freezes for a split second.

Until Kanda would (at that moment, as though on cue, as though on purpose, as though he _knew_) scoff, turn his head sharply and mutter about romance novels being the crappiest things he ever laid hands on.

As Lavi and Bookman Junior teases Kanda (Yuu-_chaaaan_) about him being a _romantic_ for even touching _romance_ tales, they cannot help but feel mild gratitude deep down.

Gratitude is not love, they think, so it is alright.

They leave it at that without feeling guilt.

Allen never found out about Lavi's little slips. He would be too busy trying to understand Lavi's version of (rated) contents in the novels.

--

_Love is a symbol of eternity. It wipes out all sense of time, destroying all memory of a beginning and all fear of an end._

--

King Arthur's wife, Guinevere, fell in love with his most powerful knight, Lancelot, and their affair split Camelot apart.

From one of the most famous of all Shakespeare's plays, Romeo and Juliet were "Star-crossed lovers", forbidden to love one another because of the ongoing feud between their wealthy parents. Both died in the end.

Camila O'Gorman fell in love with an Irish priest, and she died on the 18 of August 1848 in a paltry prison town, shot by firing squad even though she was eight months pregnant. Her crime had been to love too much in the wrong time and in the worst ace. She was 20 years old then.

Lavi scoffs.

Love, he decides, as his thirteen-year-old figure bends over a rather large volume (for his size), was not worth his time. Something which causes nothing but cataclysm and destruction of the soul.

He then decides to put down the ridiculously thick book of romance, and runs after Bookman.

He's been in the Panda's shadow ever since.

When he first met Kanda a few months later, he had to remind himself he was a to-be Bookman as he slung his arm over the Japanese, cooing the boy's first name very very affectionately.

It is on purpose, he says, laughing when Lenalee fusses over him with a band aid for his cuts. Its just so fun to ruffle Yuu-chan's feathers!

A knowing part of himself wishes it was true.

_--_

_Why love if losing hurts so much? We love to know that we are not alone._

--

There are many, many kinds of love: Family love; Sibling love (brotherly love, sisterly love); Parental love; Friendship love; Religion love; Worship love…

Lavi feels none of those.

He can't remember whether or not he had family, seeing as he gave up his identity to be Bookman a long long time ago, becoming unwritten history; he can't love siblings he doesn't know whether or not existed; and the only thing close to a parent he has is the actual Bookman.

No, Lavi doesn't _love _Bookman. Respect, yes. Admire, yes. Like? Perhaps, more or less. But love? He is someone close to Lavi, but not _that _close. After all, he is but a panda-mentor.

He doesn't really have a fixed religion: alternating between one and the other on his travels with the panda-jiji with regards to his alias, faking the strong unwavering belief he never had…

He doesn't believe in God.

No, Lavi mentally states firmly (as something which felt far too much like bliss for his comfort bubbles within him), watching as Allen and Kanda bicker with each other, Lenalee giggling, Krory chuckling, Miranda smiling…

He doesn't believe in God.

But somehow, that fact never occurs to him when deft fingers grasp the handle of his Innocence bestowed upon him as one of His apostles. He lets a battle cry fall from his lips.

The hammer is brought down upon the akuma, and it brings salvation to those who have sinned in the name of the Lord.

--

_Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence._

--

"I love you."

Lavi, despite being a Bookman, can't remember.

No matter how he racks his brains until his head ached; no matter how many times he ticks them off his fingers; no matter the number of books he revises…

How many times exactly has he come across those words?

In the countless pages of History, turning back the gears of the Clock, those three delicate and meaningless words have been uttered from one to the other, a person to many.

They are scrawled across the yellowed pages in a variety of different languages, but the meaning does not change, nor does the feelings of the speaker who spoke those words.

"_I love you."_

Bookman have no need of a heart, so Lavi abandoned his.

And now he cannot feel anything.

Or so he thinks, Lavi frowns, looking up at the cold, unfeeling samurai defiantly. Blazingly blue eyes bore straight into the depths of his soul, and he feels uncomfortably exposed. The redhead shudders.

Sometimes, he wishes he can love like Kanda said he does, so he can understand the importance historical figures place in loved ones, the significance of giving his heart and soul to one.

Too bad his heart is no longer his to claim, for it is no longer there.

"_I'm sorry."_

He gave it up a long time ago, remember?

--

_There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you._

--

For the first time in his life (inclusive of all 48 aliases before), Lavi is torn.

He finds himself fervently praying to the heavens for them to get out alive; desperately wishing he is able to love; frantically hoping that he can take everything back.

For the first time in his life, he regrets.

Most of the Order lies in shambles, just like in Lenalee's visions, and the black moon hangs jeeringly from high above the blood-streaked sky, casting its looming shadow upon the remains. The air stinks of blood – a mix of staleness and freshness – and the overpowering stench of death clings most possessively to the heavy fog which settles tenaciously.

Allen gives Lenalee an awkward hug, murmuring empty promises into her ear he himself was doubtful of in hopes of lifting her spirits. Krory shakes his head, the trickle of blood trailing from his mouth from his gums more apparent upon the deathly white, pale skin. A broken sob escapes Miranda as she clutches at her innocence, a long deep crack across the no longer round face of the clock, the roman numbers glowing only faintly. Bookman's mouth thins, the creases upon his face even more gaunt than usual.

Kanda's face was as void and blank of emotions as it could get.

The number of akuma steadily increases, Lavi notes, and he fingers the hilt of his near unrecognizable hammer.

For the first time in his life, Lavi thinks of his friends; his comrades; his parent; his family; his life; his _loves_.

"'love you," he says, crouching down and placing a hand on Allen's shoulder tentatively. He nods at Lenalee, who attempts a watery smile.

He beams.

" 'Love ya too," he chokes, and he turns to gaze at Miranda who nods in return. Krory dips his head in recognition, and Bookman's frown merely deepens.

"I love you," he whispers, grasping Kanda's wrists a little tighter than required.

"_I love you."_

Said samurai, like always, never said anything.

Bookman Junior knows why, Lavi muses darkly. Bookman Junior knows everything. Just as Kanda could see plainly through him, as though he is transparent.

His core still aches of emptiness.

His heart still isn't back.

--

_You can close your eyes to the things you do not want to see, but you cannot close your heart to the things you do not want to feel._

--

Kanda leapt forward, chipped Mugen in hand, and towards the pulsing, throbbing, surge of the live undead. The mouths upon their masks of a face open as they scream, a familiar high whining sound hitting to air as it reverberates ominously.

This time, it was Lavi who realizes something before Bookman Junior does.

"_Yuu!"_

A splatter of crimson; a flurry of stars.

The last petal within a certain hourglass trapped somewhere within the rubble withered and died.

A single emerald optic widened, and the hollow chest seized up painfully before the mind grasped anything. Blinding white flashed behind his eye, and a split second later, an excruciating surge of numbing pain throbbed through his veins and lanced, seared, speared, and thrust deep into his heart.

Twice as alive, twice as furious.

The Destroyer of Time, the Heart, the Vampire, and the Clock had to wrench their eyes away from their own battles, struck dumb by the sudden burst of fiery intensity as hungry flames lapped everything up in sight; engulfing everything in its hold; razing everything to the ground.

When the smoke cleared, Lavi's ragged form could be seen clutching at a familiar raven-haired exorcist.

"You know," Lavi choked on a bitter laugh which rose in his throat as Allen grasped his shoulder tightly, blue-grey eyes dilated half out of fear, half out of concern.

"He knew it all along."

A crystalline substance dripped off the angle of his cheek, plopping softly upon milky white complexion.

"Lavi…"

He broke.

For the first time in his eighteen year old life, Lavi regretted giving up his heart.

He regretted choosing to ignore his feelings.

He regretted pushing everyone aside.

He regretted all that he had done.

Lavi is Bookman Junior. Bookman Junior is Lavi.

So when Lavi cried that night, Bookman Junior cried alongside him.

--

_Love is like a friendship caught on fire. In the beginning a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable._

--

--


End file.
